Autumn In Paris
by Hartphillia
Summary: A series of short drabbles of what happens when Kazama Soichi journeys with his girlfriend Colette LeFleur to her home in Paris.
1. Chapter 1

Zircon cinnamon and creamy coffee,

ruby, citrine and golden leaves,

fairy children on topaz pumpkins,

fiery forest paths in blaze...

"Monsieur Kazama, ne pas simplement aimer ce beauté ville?" My hands clasped together before my chest at the sight of my first home. It has been years since I last seen Paris; so beautiful. So beautiful in the fall especially. Our train was guiding us through the heart of the city and from our seat, I spotted the Eiffel Tower off in the distance – beyond the buildings and tree tops – tall and proud, looking over my gorgeous home. My heart was racing, but it wasn't the fear of seeing my mu-ma for the first time in years or the speed of our train winding around trees, but for the love I felt being excited in this journey I stumbled upon accidentally in Neo Domino City. Being here with Kazama, my guardian angel, meant everything to me... I just wish he didn't bring his English to French translator book.

"I wish I knew what you just said," he admitted with a tired and agitated sigh, flipping through several pages in his guide before tossing me an innocent smile, "translation, Colette?"

I used my hand to cover a devious smile, "I demandé 'don't you just love the beautiful city?'" I couldn't help but follow with a soft chime of laughter.

"Oh," he blinked, "I recognized some of the words of course!" Kaz said, reassuringly with that confident smile of his painting across the canvas of his lips.

"Que vous avez fait." I teased, sticking my tongue out at him.

"And what does that mean?" He asked, flipping through his book once again. The train roared to a stop, letting off our company before allowing new companions on to join us. We were only several stops away before we would reach our destination by the river. "You're being unfair to me," Kaz whined, flashing me a smile before it slowly faded away into a heavy frown. "You think your parents will like me? I can't even speak French, let alone understand it"

I softened my eyes, placing my knitted-gloved hand over top of his bare palm, "I promise they will, Kaz. I will teach you, remember?" I gave him a smile, but he returned a lighter frown.

"Alright," he exhaled, intertwining his fingers with mine in a gentle embrace. "Are you warm enough?" Now it was Kazama's turn to tease me...

I couldn't help but blush from embarrassment. I was bundled up in a deep gray – slightly off the shoulder – sweater, with a white tank top underneath it, multi-coloured knitted scarf and mittens, dark blue jeans and gray knitted boots that came to just under my knees. I brought my yellow satchel bag, with things of aid, just in case something should happen to us before we got to my parent's home beside the river. Kazama on the other hand wasn't as bundled as I was. He wore a faded black leather jacket, a gray sweater underneath it, dark blue jeans and black fabricated shoes. We wore dark clothes, and people took notice; but after what we have endured through the year, we haven't had a good enough reason to be bright and sunny like the colourful leaves falling around our train cart.

"If I do get cold, I have you to warm moi-même up." I said softly, resting my head against his shoulder while my fingers tighten their own embrace around his hand in return. He promised me he would never let anyone or anything tear us apart again and it was a promise I refuse to let be broken. Even if my parents don't approve of him, I did and always will; and that's all that matters to me in the city of love.


	2. Chapter 2

How long has it been since I've last seen my mu-ma and papa?

Days?

Months?

Years?

My heart was beating uncontrollably. It had been a very long time since I've last seen them. Four years in fact. Four years, three months and sixteen days since I left home and went to Neo Domino City. My new haven. Paris and Neo Domino City are so different in comparison, aside the country differences and dueling styles, the two seemed worlds apart. Though, my papa was very happy to see me again – even going as far as comparing my beauty to that of my mu-ma – he seemed rather uncomfortable and shy.

His affectionate comment of beauty on the other hand, made me feel the same in return. My mu-ma was a flower and I that of a small bud in spring. I wouldn't go as far as to say we could be similar in appearance because that would be a lie. Her hair was far more radiant, dark and soft; holding a curl, while mine looked pale, but it might have been because the colour of my hair is white. Her eyes are dark and mine were the opposite. We were as different as Paris and Neo Domino City. Several worlds apart in fact.

We've been home for several hours and already I felt at home and in my old skin. My room looked the same as the day I left. My mauve curtains were still drawn close and my bed remained unmade with the white quilt and sheets still tangled in a mess of fabrics. My closest doors were still pulled open with several items of clothing blanketing the floor in deep colours of purples, blacks and grays. Even before I met Kazama – on the day my bakery, Angelic Cakes, burnt down to a smoldering pile of wood – I still wore dark clothes.

I knelt down to the floor and gathered my clothes into my arms, hugging each item to my chest and inhaling the stale aroma of dust. These things, my room and even my bed used to have the soft scent of my perfume and hair soaps but those scents have long ago faded to nothing more than to a staleness I found to be unsettling. Has no one entered my room since before I left? My eyes stung in pain, a pain I thought I have long forgotten. It was still raw and learning this, my eyes began to let go and I began to cry into my clothes that still hung limp in a pile I now held close and dear in my arms.

I rubbed my left eye with the bottom of my palm before attending to the other quickly. Even now, it seemed no one cared that I was gone and returning back home, no one seemed to be happy in the reunion. My brother, Elliot, was attending a British Duel Academy. I knew he would be happy, he was the only one who really knew of my existence.

I was raised to be perfect. Or what my mu-ma imagined perfection to be. I was obedient, kept to myself and above all, everything my mu-ma wanted me to be. The only one who saw me perfect the way I was, was Elliot. He looked to me for guidance and leaving must have broken his heart more than it broke mine leaving him with our mu-ma.

I left out a well deserved sniffle, and controlled my emotions back to a smile I've worn to keep myself from crying. I was home and should be happy. Not remembering the life I used to live. I placed my clothes back on their individual hangers and went to my bed to make it in the first time in four years. My curtains were next as I pulled them back onto golden wedges against the white walls. The sunlight let in a brilliant radiance of warm sunshine. I would often look at the trees in the garden and watch them turn from green to fiery shades and eventually fall and renew. Being September, the leaves were already turning. I reached for the latch on my window and flipped it up before pulling my French twin windows open and letting in the fresh, clean scent of Autumn.

Kazama and my father should be returning shortly from their walk around the neighborhood. This was my father's way of bonding with him. He would often walk with my brother Elliot, and that was the only time I would see my brother with my father outside of our home. My father isn't as strict as my mu-ma, but he wasn't exactly always the kindest parent in our home either.

I placed my hands on the windowsill and leaned forward, taking in the beauty of the garden. As a child, I would play in the garden with my brother but as the years began to grow, as did we, and eventually, our bond withered like the flowers my mu-ma would care for in the garden. I peered over my windowsill and down at the fountain at the center of the garden. An angel holding a vase with water toppling out was the main vocal point of the structure. And how it made me think of Kazama and the months of an eerie mystery I had to uncover and solve alone. Finding the answer to the riddle that was him was one thing but the consequences were another.

Shaking my head gently, I tucked myself back into my room and with my leaving, I brought the windows back and locked them close.


	3. Chapter 3

The heavenly aroma of my favorite flavor of cappuccino had filled the kitchen while I stood ready for the brew to finish filling my coffee cup. My hand slipped between the cup and handle and began to tingle against the warmth the cappuccino was producing. I was happy to see my favorite cup was sitting in the cabinet, a pink cup decorated in images of ballet, and seemed untouched like my bedroom. The evidence was gray and stale and blanketed the cup in a thick layer of dust. It wasn't until I washed it off and dried it that I began making something warm to drink. Now that my cup was full, I pulled it out from the espresso machine and carried it with me to the library located in the living room.

I found myself standing in the spot I usually found myself when I was a teenage girl. The library was my favorite place to be. I remember, when I would stand here and wait for my father to bring me back books. I was so happy and yet that feeling felt numb now. The books were also covered in a forgotten and hurt layer of dust. I was the only one who read from books. My mu-ma didn't bother with books and my father was too busy to read. Elliot was quite fond of books and we would often read together in the garden under the trees.

He's sixteen years old and only four years younger than I was. Being twenty, and thinking back to that time when I was his age and he being younger, I suppose it used to be a simpler time in our lives. But now that he was attending Duel Academy and I lived across the world; the books really had no purpose anymore than to be paper weights and decorate the bookcase.

Reaching from my side, I pulled off one of the many books and blew off most of the dust it had gathered. _L__e Cygne Et La Princesse._ My favorite book that I would read to Elliot on those days where we could be free and be ourselves. Mu-ma wanted Elliot to be a musician and I an opera starlet. Both dreams were fulfilled yet sadly, it didn't bring happiness to neither my brother nor I. I enjoyed singing and dancing but it might have been the illusion my mu-ma cast over me; being my teacher. Peering down, I stared at the embroidered letters of the book's cover.

"The Swan Princess," I whispered. The book strangely reminded me of the curse Kazama desperately wanted to break that was cast upon me. My book began to shake in my hand but I realized it was actually my hand quivering and not the book. I took a moment to breathe yet it seemed like it wouldn't work.

I've been cursed for four years now and nothing I did seem to matter.

Tucking the book under my arm, I traveled from the living room and went to the entrance hallway of my home. I breathed in and then out before taking a hold of the doorknob with my free hand and twisting it. I let myself out and closed the door behind me. It was getting dark and I knew the boys would return home soon. Walking several paces forward and down a single stair, on the staircase that lead up to my house from the sidewalk, I took a seat at the top step. I breathed in and breathed out. I took a sip of my cappuccino and pulled out my book from under my arm. Placing the cup down, I turned to the first page of the book and began reading from the top of chapter one. Every so often I would pick my cup up and drink a sip of my cappuccino before turning a page in the book. I knew the words by heart, and would often recite them on cue. My mu-ma would even cast me as the swan in Swan Lake and would call me her little swan princess when I had pleased her.

My eyes grew heavy and for a moment, I almost forgot I was holding my cup. I placed the empty porcelain cup down and turned a page in my book, realizing I was at chapter four.

"Colette!" I heard my name being called by Kazama. I raised my gaze and found him pouring in through the picket fence surrounding my yard and hauling forward at me with a large smile painting itself onto the lips I've become familiar with.

"K-Kaz." I squeaked, the moment he collided into my body and hugged me against his own body. He held me in his arms for a moment before pulling back, revealing that his smile was now in a cool grin.

"Miss me?" He asked, softening his brown orbs against the setting rays of the sun. He brought his hand to the level of his eye, shielding out the piercing light.

"Oui, beaucoup." I answered, smiling.

"I recognize yes but what's the second word?" Kazama asked another question but in his voice I could hear how tired he was. I frowned at this as I realized it was my fault he felt this way. "It means, very much."

He grinned, "knew it."

I giggled, receiving a kiss in reward for my translation against my lips. I heard my father walking passed the gate next, and from what I heard, he didn't sound pleased in the idea of his only daughter being kissed right in front of him.


End file.
